


Gangs of Trost

by Luka (KirschteinsDeliveryService)



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: (inspired by at least), Alternate Universe - 1920s, French-Speaking Jean Kirstein, M/M, mafia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-31
Updated: 2017-05-31
Packaged: 2018-11-07 06:30:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11053275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KirschteinsDeliveryService/pseuds/Luka
Summary: Jean Kirschtein has never considered himself to be a particularly good person. He's never questioned the morality of his work, and he never expected to either. But when a could-be-police man stumbles right into one of their secret safe houses - and, as a result, Jean's life - he has to start determining who he should trust and whether he really is okay with the nature of his job.





	Gangs of Trost

**Author's Note:**

  * For [my friend Becca](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=my+friend+Becca).



> This is a work-in-progress, will be updated soon (honestly I just need a change of scenery/something other than word before I can get going with this haha).
> 
> I know Attack on Titan, its author at least, has a lot of problems and questionable behaviours etc. This is mostly something I feel like writing because I care about the characters too much to ditch them completely, even if I'm a bit uncertain about a lot of other stuff going on with the series/Isayama.

Rain hailed down over Trost like the first time after a long-lasting drought. A figure reaches into its inside pocket for cigarettes, fetching a pack of Titans. It inspects the pack for signs of water damage and, finding none, lifts a cigarette and places it between its chapped lips. The matches, however, aren’t about to be of any help.

The figure’s voice is rough when it gestures to the one by its side. A man’s voice. “Got a light?” Cigarette between teeth, he leans in as close as he can without burning the other. Click. The flame flicks and lingers just long enough to reveal the features of the man and environment around him.

Jean Kirschtein stands in a warehouse. He wears a white linen shirt and black suspenders. His shoes are none other than a pair of brown Castellanos Wingtips. His high-waist trousers compliment it all nicely.

The only furniture in the warehouse is a chair and a long table (if you don’t count the rattling chains hanging low from the ceiling.). Jean sighs as a cloud of smoke comes out from between his perfect teeth.  
His companion and subordinate stands beside him, blond locks pushing into his eyes. Jean had been keeping this one around ever since the guy saved his life a few months back. Armin Arlert. Frail, but with the smarts of a scholar. He makes for a mean advisor.  
Jean had leaned in so close when having his cigarette lit, he thought he could see the guy blush. Maybe the flames were playing a trick on him.

“You see that?” Jean says, nodding towards the window ahead of them. He breathes out another draft of smoke before continuing. “The air’s been as dry as our business lately. Maybe this means something.” He doesn’t need to look to know Armin is scowling. That one usually sticks to science and facts, not superstition. Perhaps he’s right in that.

The backdoor creaks open. “Hey, boss.” Jean doesn’t turn. Instead, he throws a glance behind his shoulder, briefly acknowledging the intruder. “Caught a rat. This kid was lurking around outside.”  
Now that’s something to earn his interest. Turning around, Jean watches silently as two of his henchmen throw in a young-looking brunette. The guy stumbles, but maintains his balance enough to avoid falling. He shoots a quick glare at the men who pushed him before sending a look in Jean’s direction. Jean can’t quite guess what kind of look it is. Nervousness? Annoyance? Perhaps a mix of the two.

The man is roughly pushed into the single chair in the room. With a wave of Jean’s hand, the henchmen are dismissed. The darkness settles again as the door closes shut, and Jean slowly crosses the room to stand ahead of the man.

“And who might you be?”

Interrogation has never been simple, that much Jean can admit. You need to be able to read the enemy, see his weaknesses and strengths without revealing anything yourself. If you push the wrong buttons, you’ll have a hard time getting any info. Normally, Jean has someone around for this purpose in particular. A professional who never fails at getting just the right things outta a man. So what if there’s the occasional mess accompanying it, as long as he finds out what he needs?  
But this isn’t one of those normal instances. Normally, the enemy doesn’t waltz right into his arms. If this so-called rat is truly that, then he’s got to be a rookie. No experienced copper gets himself caught that easily, nor do they usually go beyond their own turfs. Some stupid civilian, maybe?

Despite these thoughts going through Jean’s head, he watches the intruder silently, face devoid of emotion as he waits for answers.  
After all, he always gets his answers.


End file.
